Blood and Chocolate
by Akira of the Twilight
Summary: When a series of murders involving romantic partners turning on each other with no memory of it later surfaces, Sam and Dean head to the small town where the murders are taking place. Demon, witch, or rogue cupid, the brothers have no idea which is the cause. One thing is certain though, Gabriel is acting strange.
1. Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural and make no profit off this fanfic.

Pairing: Sabriel

Prompt: Love and Chocolates (submitted by LovelyFangirls)

Additional Prompt: Write a Valentine's Day fic in the horror genre (offered by UnattainableDreams).

**Author's Corner**: So I've always defined a V-day fic as any fanfic posted around Valentine's Day with love being a heavy theme, so I may not fulfill the additional prompt in the traditional sense (i.e. the story takes place on/around Valentine's day).

* * *

Blood and Chocolates

Part 1

Adrian dragged herself into the apartment and tripped on a pair of men's dress shoes left haphazardly in front of the door. Pink pumps and a red woman's coat lay disregarded just a few more steps inside the tiny apartment. Adrian, huffed, recognizing the signs of her roommate Tonya keeping company for the evening. "Thanks, Tonya."

There was a grumble from the living room, and now that Adrian wasn't killing herself trying to get into her own home she was able to detect the faint sound of the news playing on the TV. Curious, she strolled into the living room/dining room/kitchen (the only thing that separated the three sections was a half-wall). The back of the couch hid all of Tonya except for her foot, which hung off the arm of the couch.

"No boy?" Adrian asked, and sauntered into the kitchen. Her stomach was growling with the ferocity of a bear.

There was a groan from Tonya.

Adrian opened one of the cupboards, only to stop when a white box of chocolates caught her eye on the counter. She hadn't had anything sweet in days, and Tonya wouldn't notice a piece missing from it. Adrian lifted the lid.

A dismembered hand lay in the blood-soiled wrappers and melted chocolate.

Adrian screamed.

Tonya moaned and sat up. "What's wrong?"

Adrian scream again.

Blood coated Tonya's mouth like she was the chupacabra.

Caught in between Tonya's teeth were bits of flesh.

* * *

_**Supernatural**_

* * *

Sam cut off the blaring rock music of the Impala as Dean and he drove up to the crime scene. They were already in their suits with their fraudulent FBI badges ready in their pockets. Three police cars were parked against the sidewalk of the apartment building of the most recent murder in Hitching Post, Alabama. The men in uniform lingered near their vehicles as they radioed into the police station and interviewed people that were either connected to the murderer or victim. Dean rolled up behind one the police cars and parked.

Immediately one of the officers noticed their arrival and headed toward the Impala.

Sam reached for his badge while he got out of the car, and held it up for the officer to see. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dean do the same.

"FBI," Dean said.

The policeman paused, as if uncertain how to proceed. He was young—he'd probably just finished his training.

"What is the FBI doing here?" An old man—the most senior of the group by the looks of it—stepped forward.

"Recent string of suspicious deaths," Sam explained smoothly. It wasn't even a lie. There had been a man who had butchered his wife one evening, then the next day he couldn't remember ever having done it. That instance alone raised red flags and suspicion of a demon attack, when combined with other stories about rough sex that ended with both partners dying due to blood loss or dehydration, there was no doubt in Sam's mind that something supernatural was afoot. "Information is strictly classified."

"Classified?" The old gent repeated, his gaze narrowing with suspicion at them.

Dean beamed, putting on his best good ole boy smile that half the time ended up making people more distrustful toward him—especially older men with daughters.

The older officer's hand went toward his gun, but didn't pull it out.

Dean would not be deterred though; he tossed out a few friendly jokes, while throwing in a few comments about working for the bureau that seemed to placate the officer enough to believe Dean and Sam were real FBI agents. Although, Sam doubted the man would let Dean anywhere near the women in his family.

"All right, follow me." The man waved Dean and Sam over to the apartment building. The first floor was empty and no one had bothered to turn on the lights. Sam noticed this was the same with all of the floors leading up to the fourth. The fourth floor was chaos with officers and investigation equipment packed into the narrow hallway. Yellow crime scene tape barred entry from the stairwell, but the older man lifted it for Dean and Sam.

"Honestly, I don't know what you two are going to find that we haven't already."

"Just a formal requirement," Sam said to ease the man.

A blond policeman of average height and build bumped into Sam's shoulder roughly—intentionally. Sam turned his head, watching the retreating officer's back, only for the man to stop and turn his head so his golden eyes met Sam's. The man smirked.

Gabriel.

Sam shoved down the tiny thrill that shot through him at seeing the archangel-turned-trickster. He couldn't make a scene that would draw unwanted attention to Gabriel, but he needed to inform Dean of the angel's presence, or suffer an earful later. He elbowed Dean, who was nodding as the leading officer prattled off details about the crime. Dean's eyes slid to Sam, and Sam cocked his head backward. Dean twisted his head just enough so he could see behind him without making it obvious he was doing so.

"You gotta be kidding me," Dean grumbled.

"What was that, sir?" The older officer stopped in front of the couch that was coned off from the rest of the living room.

"Nothing, go on," Dean said.

Sam shifted, putting sliding a hand into his suit pocket. "Do you mind if I look around while you talk? It will make this process go by much faster."

The older man nodded with a frown. "Just don't mess with anything."

It was moments like this when Sam pitied federal agents. The men and women spent years training, and then small town officers like these acted like they had no idea how to behave at a crime scene. With an acknowledging nod, Sam wandered off and examined the apartment, trying to keep his mind on the case and not the trickster who had decided to make an appearance.

After the Elysian Fields incident, Sam and Dean had no idea what had happened to Gabriel. When Gabriel didn't make an appearance during Castiel and Raphael's power struggle, the two had finally assumed he must be dead. It wasn't until some time during their fight with the Leviathans that Sam and Dean bumped into Gabriel again. He was still in hiding and up to his trickster ways, but every now and then he popped in on the Winchesters. He even helped solve a few cases.

Sam crouched and looked under the bed of the murderer's bed to see if there was a hex bag or sulfur underneath, but couldn't find anything. Sam frowned. So far he hadn't found anything to indicate a demon—his leading theory on what was causing the murders—or witchcraft. He ran through the list of things that go bump in the night in his head. Two other creatures came to mind as possible cause, but one was an extremely low possibility. The unlikely one was the Horseman of Famine, but Sam knew he had killed the horseman, so unless he had somehow been brought back to life, he couldn't be the cause. The more likely creature, albeit still a bit of a stretch, was a rogue cupid. He didn't think cupids had such powers, but so far all of the murderers and victims had some sort of romantic relationship with each other, so he had to take it under consideration.

Sam scoped out the rest of the apartment, but found no evidence to cement any theory.

He rejoined Dean. His brother gave him a quick assessing glance, before he turned his charm back on. "Well, it seems we got what we need for now. If you find something or think of else anything that may pertain to this case, please let us know." Dean pulled out a card with their phone number on it.

The lead officer took it with a nod—his expression was none-too happy about the prospect of calling Dean.

Dean and Sam strolled out of the building, doing their best to maintain their professional pretense as they made there way through the throng of officers and dipped under the yellow tape. They picked up their pace in the stairwell.

"Anything?" Dean asked.

"Nothing."

Dean cursed. "And you checked everywhere?"

Sam glared at Dean.

Dean held up a calming hand, silently acknowledging that his question had be asinine; Sam and him had been doing this all their lives. It shouldn't be asked if Sam checked everywhere, because of course he would.

Sam pulled back his annoyance and relented. "Unless someone broke in and pulled up the floorboards. In which case, we got our work cut out for us."

"Don't you two boys always?" Gabriel's friendly voice cut through the air behind them.

Sam and Dean whirled on instinct, but had enough control to not reach for their weapons right away.

Gabriel lounged against the off-yellow walls of the stairwell with one leg propped and bent so his foot rested on the wall. His arms crossed over his chest in what could have been a defensive gesture but instead radiated smugness. His confidence was compounded by his mischievous grin as he enjoyed a sucker.

Sam kept his expression nonchalant, letting Dean take the lead with Gabriel.

"What do you want, Gabriel?" Dean demanded. "You responsible for this?"

"I'm cruel, but I've never been a fan of cannibalism," Gabriel quipped.

"So why are you here?" Sam interjected. Curiosity gnawed at him. Gabriel didn't like playing the hero, so there would have to be a good reason for Gabriel's involvement. Sam doubted it was just for a booty call—Gabriel could fetch Sam in the night if that was what he wanted.

Sam wasn't dating Gabriel. "Friends with benefits" might not even describe his relationship with Gabriel. They didn't spend much time together outside of a few bedroom romps. Heck, he'd even punched Gabriel the first time the archangel made a move on him that was more than friendly. Whatever they were though, it worked for both of them.

Gabriel popped his sucker out of his mouth and beamed. "I was hanging out in a town nearby when I heard some interesting rumors about this place. I knew right away you two would show up."

"Yeah, because there aren't a handful of other hunters out there." Dean scoffed. "So what? You want to hang out with us, or something?"

Gabriel peeled himself off the wall. "Why Dean-o, I thought you'd never ask." He waltzed past Sam and Dean, humming the tune to a soap opera that Sam swore he'd caught Dean watching a few times, although his brother would deny it.

Dean sputtered, giving chase. "No one said you were invited."

"Give it a rest Dean, we could use what help we can get. Unless you got an idea what we're after," Sam raised his voice just to make sure Dean heard him despite the gap that was growing between them as Dean rushed after Gabriel.

"Listen to your brother, Dean. He is the smart one," Gabriel spoke in a sing-song voice.

Dean huffed, catching up to Gabriel. He seized Gabriel by the back of his jacket and yanked him away from the front door of the apartment building. "You can help, but in case you haven't realized, it's going to look weird for Sam and me to show up alone and then leave with a random officer."

The upward, knowing curl of Gabriel's lips was steady as he batted Dean's hand away. "Well, if that is all you're worried about… See you in the car." He snapped his fingers and vanished.

Dean blinked—thrown a little by Gabriel's sudden departure.

"Bet he's hiding in the backseat," Sam said as he walked past Dean and held the door open for his brother.

"I ain't taking that bet." Dean adjusted his tie as he walked past Sam. Gabriel had only magically appeared in the backseat of the Impala a handful of times, but it was enough that it was no surprise to assume the trickster was probably ducked down in the backseat at that very moment.

As Sam sauntered over to the Impala and reached for handle he glanced inside just to check if Gabriel was there. The corner of his mouth quirked up at the sight of Gabriel in his street clothes and curled up in a ball so no one could see him from afar. Sam slid into the car and waited for Dean to peel out from the sidewalk.

They hadn't even made it a block away from the crime scene before Gabriel sat up and slung his arm around Sam's neck. "Hey, Sasquatch, miss me?"

Sam snorted tersely and let his hand come up to rest on the arm around his neck as if to pry it off. "As much as you miss the dentist." Dean didn't know about Sam and Gabriel's relationship, and Sam did not feel the need to inform him. Neither did Gabriel it seemed, although, Gabriel got a kick out of doing little things such as flirt with Sam in front of Dean; it was the thrill of being caught and the sadistic glee he got when Dean's protective streak showed itself.

Gabriel nuzzled his cheek against Sam's. "Aw, Sasquatch, I love it when you act like an ice king. It make it all the more satisfying when I melt that hard exterior away."

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Sam, if you don't punch him, I will."

Sam sighed in exasperation. "You heard him, Gabriel. Don't make me knock your teeth out with a headbutt."

"Just try it." Even as Gabriel challenged him, he slipped his arm away from Sam.

"You got the information on the victims' families, right?" Dean asked Sam.

Sam nodded, and pulled out a stack of papers he had put under his seat. He flipped through the papers as Dean cranked up the volume on the cassette player. "It's not the victim's family, but in this recent case, the murderer had a roommate by the name of Adrian. It looks like she is staying with her grandmother until the investigation is completed."

"So we talk to this Adrian-chick and find out if she saw or noticed anything beforehand? What's the address?"

Gabriel leaned forward so his head jutted over the front seat between Dean and Sam. His head was positioned perfectly, so that Dean couldn't see his hand creep up behind Sam's head and twirl a strand of hair. "I guessing you two haven't heard about the local Samantha."

"Samantha?" Dean repeated.

"_Bwitched_, Dean-o."

Sam twisted in his seat, but Gabriel maintained the hold on the single strand of hair. "There's a witch here?"

Dean tensed in his seat at just the thought of having to deal with a witch. Sam's stomach knotted in sympathy. Witches were always such pains in the ass and always managed to find sick, and twisted ways to harm people—Sam and Dean included. Sam much rather deal with another overly friendly, naked cupid again than a witch.

Gabriel whistled lowly in disappointment. "You two really don't know how to do your research, do you?" He gave Sam's hair a gentle tug. "The witch is practically famous here—sells love potions to all of the locals."

"Love potions?" Sam echoed. He couldn't help but draw a connection between the potions and the relationships between victims and killers.

"All right, so where is this witch?" Dean asked.

"I believe she is at her shop right now, which is the other way, a left on Rosemary Avenue and it will be on the right hand side of the street."

Sam and Dean shared a look. "That's oddly specific…" Sam trailed off.

Gabriel grinned cheekily. "Hey, it took forever for you two to get here."

"Considering that, as far as we know, you're life span is indefinite as long as no one kills you, I don't think you should be the one to say anything took 'took forever,'" Sam said.

"And did you happen to check out this witch while you were waiting?" Dean pulled into a left hand turn lane to make a U-turn.

"And take away from your work—you're only purpose for living?" Gabriel scoffed. "What kind of heartless fiend do you take me for?"

"More like lazy ass."

Sam cleared his throat to break up the encroaching argument. He plucked the sheet of paper with Adrian's current address printed on the page, and folded it so the crease underlined the house number and street name. He pushed the paper toward Dean. "Here, you check out Adrian. I'll take Gabriel with me to see what I can find out about our local witch."

Dean took the paper but frowned, his forehead wrinkling. "You sure? Witches aren't exactly the best thing to go up against alone. Hell, they suck even with back up."

"That's why I get Gabriel."

Dean eyes narrowed and slid toward Gabriel, who listened in amusement. "Yeah, you sure about that? A witch _and_ his annoying ass?"

"May I remind you that this annoying ass can kill both of you with just a thought?" The words could be perceived as a threat, but due to his mocking tone, Sam picked up that Gabriel was just trying to convince Dean that Sam would be safe.

Dean mumbled something that Sam couldn't catch before he huffed and said, "Fine, but if Sam dies or is horribly maimed, I'm going after you Gabriel."

"I am quaking in my boots." Gabriel mockingly flailed his hands. "The big bad hunter who has never been able to find me unless I allowed it is going to come after me. I think I may just wet myself."

"Not in the Impala you don't," Dean practically growled.

The trip to the witch's shop was short and filled with a constant exchange of quips between Dean and Gabriel. As headache inducing as the bickering between Gabriel and Dean could be, it was also highly entertaining. Their share of a defense mechanism led a plethora of jokes that always contained at least one Sam liked. Also, maybe Sam was just going crazy—it wouldn't be the first time—but he sensed that the stream of barbs and movie references was Gabriel and Dean's way of bonding.

Dean pulled up to a shop with a purple roof and bottle-shaped sign with the words "Little Shop of Potions" in cursive that hung over the glass door. A heart was painted on the top of the door, and through the windows rows of bottles could be seen lining the shelves inside.

"Don't do anything stupid," Dean said as Sam stepped out from the Impala and shut the door. The window was rolled down a few inches so Sam could still hear him.

"Same to you." Sam nodded and stuffed his hand in his pants pocket as he turned and walked a few steps away from the Impala.

"Bye, Daddy!" Gabriel shouted childishly.

The Impala's engine roared as Dean stepped on the gas and peeled away from the shop like Gabriel had threatened to marry him to the devil.

Sam shook his head at Gabriel's antics and headed toward the shop, only to be stopped when two arms wrapped around him and pressed him against a much smaller body. "Finally! I thought he'd never leave."

Sam cast a wary gaze. People were walking up and down the sidewalk, and embarrassment wrapped itself around Sam. He wasn't the most affectionate person in public in general, but with Gabriel he was even more reserved. Having been grown up in macho-attitude environment, it was difficult to be so open about going against the grain, even if he had some experience in that field due to his insistence on going to college—but college wasn't getting oneself involved with an angel.

The arms around his waist tightened and fingers splayed across his abdomen, applying a light amount of pressure to the hard muscle hidden under Sam's suit. "C'mon on, Sam. If you stay like a statue, I am going to climb your back like a monkey and suck on you neck like a vampire." Gabriel's body slid up a few inches against Sam's as he raised himself onto his tiptoes. His breath ghosted the back of Sam's neck. "Of course, there's always your earlobe too. You're a little sensitive there, aren't you?"

A thrill of anticipation shuddered through his body, but Sam extracted himself from Gabriel. He huffed as he let his hand fall to the small of Gabriel's back and pushed him toward the potion stop. "Case first."

"If you can hold out that long." Gabriel grinned wickedly as he wiggled his eyebrows at Sam.

"Your overconfident." Sam held open the shop door for Gabriel, the little bell above it tingling as Sam did so.

Gabriel sauntered into the shop, winking over his shoulder at Sam. "No, I'm just aware of my animal magnetism and sexual prowess. Trust me, you ain't got a chance."

Sam rolled his eyes, choosing not to comment as the overwhelming scent of sandalwood incense assaulted his nostrils. Bottles of every color in the rainbow plus more decorated the walls. A glass case containing faux leather bound books that were intended to look ancient blocked off a portion of one of the walls. A register sat at the corner of it, but there was no one to man it. Sam looked around the room and noticed a square hole cut out of one of the walls. Through it he could see a kitchen like space where a woman in a pink apron hummed as she worked.

Sam reached for his badge in his pocket and cleared his throat.

The woman paused in the middle of grinding a bowl of herbs and looked up. She blinked owlishly at Sam.

Sam held up his badge. "FBI, Miss."

"Lotta Heartwell," Gabriel said as he examined one of the shelves.

It took a moment for Sam to realize Gabriel had just passed on the woman's name to him. He gave Gabriel a thankful nod as the woman grumbled something about giving her a minute.

Gabriel smiled and returned the nod. He picked up a green bottle from the shelf and uncorked it. He sniffed the top of the bottle and frowned then shook his head.

Sam cocked his head to the side in silent inquiry.

Gabriel waved off his curiosity.

The woman's boots pounded on the floorboards as she exited the back room and entered the front of the shop. She dressed as vibrantly as the bottles that filled her shop. "How may I help you two gents today?" She spoke casually, as if they were friendly acquaintances.

"It seems there have been some strange murders taking place around town, and we were wondering if we could have a moment of your time to ask you about the victims and murderers."

The woman pursed her lips slightly in confusion. "What does that have to do with me?"

Sam clasped his hands behind his back and paced the shop a bit, buying himself time to chose his words carefully while simultaneously encouraging the woman's mind to run rampant with all the possible reasons why the FBI would be after her. If he could make her nervous, she might slip up when he interrogated her. "How much do you know about the murders, Ms. Heartwell?"

Lotta shrugged. "Not much. Only rumors."

"Do you know the names of the victims and murderers?"

Her expression turned somber, and Sam had a hard time believing this woman to be a witch. "Yes."

"Do you also know that all of victims and murderers were involved with each other intimately?"

Lotta shrugged again. "Since I am constantly called in to draft love potions for the folks of this town, I know almost every single relationship that is taking place right now, has taken place, or will."

"Will?" Gabriel broke his silence to turn and spare the woman a teasing smile. He plucked another potion off the wall—a blue one.

Lotta nodded. "People tell me their plans, and it's not too difficult to predicate whose feelings are going to be reciprocated and whose is not." Her eyes narrowed and roved over Sam and Gabriel. "You two could work."

Sam sputtered. "Excuse me?"

She waved off Sam's distress. "You already have the small gestures in your favor, and the small gestures are the basis for everything."

Lotta must have seen Sam hold the door open for Gabriel, Sam determined. It was only one small gesture, but if there were thousands of people in the world who thought Dean and Sam were secretly a couple, then was it really surprising that a stranger would take one action out of context and build it up to something meaningful in their head? The answer was obviously a "no."

Keeping that in mind, Sam collected himself and easily regained his calm FBI persona. "Ms. Heartwell, we would like records of those who have recently purchased potions from you."

The friendly visage of Lotta hardened. "I see." Restrained animosity leaked into her voice. "You wouldn't happen to have a warrant for such paperwork?"

Sam hesitated to answer. He didn't have a fake warrant—although, he could probably mock one up in a few hours—but he didn't want to give Lotta an opportunity to run or put a hex on him. "At this time, no, however, we would appreciate your compliance."

Lotta shook her head. "Sorry, no can do. I respect the privacy of my clients. Plus, the way I see it, you haven't got any reason to be asking to see my company's files. Couples turning on each other is not unheard of. Unless you have some sort of evidence tying me to them, I have no reason to be sharing information with you."

"What if I said at least one partner from each couple bought something from your shop?"

Lotta raised a thin eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well then, I would say you are lying through your teeth, because I know everyone who buys my potions, and I can promise you that Edward Heaton would never allow one of my potions near him. Devils magic, he thinks it is."

"Are you saying what you're doing is not devil's magic?" Sam asked challengingly.

"Are you saying you believe in magic Mr. Federal Agent?"

Sam shook his head. "Doesn't matter what I think. It matters what your costumers do."

"This is a pretty big shop to run by yourself," Gabriel interrupted. "Do you have someone who helps you run it?"

"Just a local boy, David, who cashiers when he isn't working at Danny's Sweet Shop down the road."

Gabriel's face lit up like the sun. "Well, I think we're done here." He wrapped his hand around Sam's wrist. "Come on, Gigantor, we've gotten as much out of her as we're going to for now."

Sam protested, but Gabriel dragged him out of the store like he was a puppy tugging on its leash because it insisted on smelling everything instead of continuing on its walk. Sam huffed once they were outside of the shop. "I had more questions."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Ask them later when you have a warrant. For now, let's check out that kid she mentioned."

Sam yanked his wrist out of Gabriel's hold, begrudgingly accepting Gabriel's suggestion as he followed the angel down the road. He assumed since Gabriel had been in town for a few days and had a thing for sweets, the archangel knew the location for place Lotta had mentioned. "So did you notice anything when you were examining the potions."

Gabriel frowned. "Nothing magical. Just your regular home-remedies kind of crap."

Sam paused in his stroll. "Are you saying she is not a witch?"

"I'm saying she isn't your devil-worshipping, could throw you across the room with the flick of her wrist kind of witch."

"That's… comforting." And troublesome, Sam silently admittedly. If she was just some woman playing "witch" then his lead could very well be a dead end, and once again he would be stuck with trying figure out _what _was responsible for the murders.

Gabriel's hand slipped onto his back and rubbed the muscles there. "Poor, little Sam."

Sam grunted. "Who are you calling little?"

Gabriel grinned up at him. "When I'm in my true form, trust me, you're little."

Their arms brushed together as they wandered down the street. Occasionally Sam would plaster his side against Gabriel's and vice versa to make room whenever someone walked by. Sam let himself enjoy the little touches, knowing that if Dean were to suddenly barrel down the street in the Impala he wouldn't be subjected to an onslaught of questions.

Gabriel held the door open for Sam as they entered Danny's Sweet Shop. The décor was black and white with the only color accents being a few hanging flowers along the ceiling and the display case full of baked goods and boxes of handmade chocolate. The smell of sugar dominated the air.

Gabriel hurried past Sam to the display case, and just then, a boy in his early twenties or late teens popped out from the bakery with a tray of chocolate éclairs. "How may I help you two, today?" He smiled like a gracious host as he slid the tray of goodies into the display case.

"You wouldn't happen to be David, would you?" Sam asked.

The young man nodded, and a second later Sam produced his FBI badge.

The boy went ridged.

Gabriel chuckled. "Give me one of those éclairs for free and I will keep my buddy from roughing you up, kiddo."

"Gabriel," Sam chastised.

"It's okay." The boy waved off Sam's anger, although he still looked like he was going to scream and runaway at any second. "It's my first time making éclairs, so I really could use a taste-tester."

Gabriel slammed his hands on the display case. "I'm your man, kid."

Sam shook his head, but did not protest when David took out a flimsy sheet of paper and grabbed one of the éclairs for Gabriel. Gabriel didn't even have the éclair in his hand for a second before he stuffed it into his face. He hummed in delight. "Delicious, kid." He winked at David.

David's hand reached up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, but he stopped himself at the last moment. He'd probably remembered at the last moment the possible health violation touching his head could cause.

"We were hoping you could tell us a bit about your boss Lotta Heartwell." From the corner of his eye Sam watched Gabriel enjoy each bite of éclair he took.

David nodded his head vigorously. "What do you want to know?"

Sam inquired into Lotta's relationships with the victims and murderers. He'd expected at least one hostile story, but David was quick to confirm that Lotta had no enemies. There were a few townsfolk who were wary of her, but that was the extent of any negativity toward her, at least, any that was known. "Would you say, her potions work?"

David's face scrunched. "Honestly, it depends who you ask. She says that you can't use the stuff to make someone fall in love with you against their will, so some people just think it is a placebo effect."

Gabriel nodded. "Very possible."

"And what about you?" Sam pressed.

There was flash of emotion in David's eyes that disappeared too quickly for Sam to indentify. "It's real."

"Do you know what she uses in her potions?" Sam asked

"No idea. I'm just a cashier."

Sam asked a few more questions, but remained unsatisfied. He shook his head when Gabriel bought four more éclairs before leaving. He seemed to sense Sam's disapproval because he smirked right before he offered to buy Sam one too, which Sam swiftly declined.

Sam's phone rang as he stepped out of the sweets shop with Gabriel, who was contentedly munching on his second éclair. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Sam recognized Dean's number and answered. "What did you find?"

"Nothing. Girl came home to find a severed hand in the chocolate box, screams, then sees roommate's mouth is covered in blood and has skin sticking between her teeth."

"Did she know if her roommate believed in magic or anything of the sort?"

"Yeah. Girl was a skeptic. Haven't checked out the guy yet."

Sam nodded, despite his displeasure. If the murderer was a skeptic and the boy turned out to be one too, chances were neither one ever bought anything from Lotta, and if one couple wasn't connected to Lotta—even if the rest were—then Lotta's ranking on the suspect list would drop. Technically, it already had, if she really was just a home-remedy kind of witch.

"What about the witch?" Dean asked.

"Hard to say. Seems pretty harmless, according to Gabriel, although her employee certainly thinks her magic is real."

"All right. We'll look into her more. Meet you back at the hotel." Dean hung up.

Sam returned his phone to his pocket. He paused as he pulled his hand away when he caught sight of Gabriel pulling another éclair out of his take out bag. "Are you eating another one already? What is that? Three?"

"Four." Bits of éclair spewed out of Gabriel's mouth as he talked.

Sam grimaced. "You make me want to vomit just thinking about that."

Gabriel grinned cheekily, and took a purposefully big bite of his éclair, chewing it slowly in front of Sam.

"Gross, man." Sam shoved Gabriel's shoulder.

"You won't be saying that when I get you alone later."

Sam opened his mouth to point out they were alone right then, but shut it quickly. He was not going to invite Gabriel to pounce on him in the middle of sidewalk where anyone and everyone could witness their affair.

Sam enjoyed the peaceful stroll through the small town, and although he would never admit it aloud, he was thankful that Gabriel had bought an excess amount of éclairs, because eating the remaining two served as a wonderful distraction for Gabriel, who would otherwise have made a point to complain about the walk. Sam swore Gabriel complained about such mundane things just to get attention.

Gabriel crumpled the take out bag between his hands and tossed it over his shoulder into a nearby garbage can. He licked his fingertips and hummed exaggeratedly, letting his gaze drift toward Sam.

Sam chuckled at the cheesy seduction tactic. His laugh was cut off with a barely audible gasp as two hands gripped his waist, fingertips dipped over the edge of his jeans and boxers brushing against his skin. Then Gabriel was pressed against his back, with his head titled up so his breath ghosted the back of Sam's neck. The hand threatening to yank his pants off, uncurled and slid up his shirt and touched muscles and flesh there.

The hotel was within sight, and Dean would probably stop off somewhere to get food.

Sam slipped his hand under his shirt and laced his fingers through Gabriel's. He squeezed Gabriel's hand then took off at a rushed pace toward the hotel, tugging Gabriel along behind him.

Gabriel laughed, and Sam grinned.

He was going to enjoy the next half hour thoroughly.

* * *

All evidence of Sam and Gabriel's escapades was cleaned up or hidden away by the time Dean returned to the hotel. Sam typed away at his laptop from his spot at the small desk offered by the hotel. Gabriel had pulled up a chair beside him and was blowing bubbles with his gum. His thigh was pressed extremely close to Sam's, but when Sam tried to slide away, Gabriel scooted closer.

Dean raised a questioning eyebrow at Gabriel's action. Sam shrugged, silently communicating: _It's Gabriel. He's weird._

Dean nodded, accepting the unspoken explanation. He dropped a brown grocery bag on the counter of the kitchenette. He whistled as he pulled out two pies and tossed them into the mini fridge. "Anything new?" Pulled a bottle of beer out of the bag and popped it open on the counter. He took a swig.

Gabriel perked up a like a dog offered a bone. He smirked. "Destiel has almost as many fans as Wincest."

Sam blanched.

Dean spat his beer out and wiped his mouth. "Are you talking about that fan-shit?"

Gabriel propped his elbow on the desk and rested his chin on his palm. He hummed thoughtfully. "Honestly, I prefer Sastiel. The levels of social awkwardness and nerd are astoundingly amusing. " The corner of his eyes crinkled, and he leaned in so his face was only a few inches from Sam's. "Of course, it's still second to Sabriel." He puckered his and lips and leaned into Sam.

Sam shoved his hand over his mouth, effectively protecting his lips from Gabriel's kiss.

Gabriel frowned, but didn't pull away, letting his mouth hover centimeters from Sam's hand.

Dean took another gulp of beer before returning to unloading the grocery bag. "So anything new that does not have to do with those stupid books or its fans?"

"Nothing consistent." Sam leaned back in the chair to put some extra distance between him and Gabriel. His hand slipped down to his chin where he let it rest as he skimmed through the pile of police reports on the desk and few news articles he'd pulled up on his laptop. "In double murder cases, traces of chocolate were found in the victims' stomachs."

"So they both have chocolate then decided to kill each other?"

"No idea." Sam clicked through the news articles, ignoring how Gabriel pushed their sides together. "None of the other victims had chocolate in them. Although, the recent victim's hand was found in a chocolate box. Even so, the chocolate could just be a coincidence."

Dean scoffed, slamming the fridge door close, keeping his beer and another unopened on in his hand. "And how often is it a coincidence?" Dean handed Sam the unopened beer.

Sam twisted the cap off, elbowing Gabriel in the chest, since the angel refused to budge from his side. "Good point, but still nothing to go on, unless you know about any chocolate monsters, excluding Gabriel."

"I resent that," Gabriel mocked pouted, but his eyes glimmered with amusement.

"Only thing I can think of is witches, man." Dean patted Sam on the shoulder. "Takin' a shower."

"Good, you reek." Sam's fingers clicked across the keyboard.

"Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam smiled. The bathroom door whined from lack of proper oiling, and shut with a soft click.

Sam didn't have time to blink before Gabriel was in his lap, grinding down on him, threading his fingers through Sam's hair, and tugging Sam forward into a bruising kiss. Sam gasped and slipped his hands between himself and Gabriel. He let his hands rest on Gabriel's chest as he enjoyed a few seconds of the sweet friction. He pressed his palms against Gabriel and yanked his head back, but was met with resistance.

Gabriel was very good about keeping his strengthen in check, but would occasionally use it to his advantage if he wanted to prolong a kiss for a few seconds. Sam let Gabriel continue to press and move their lips together heatedly, but when it lasted beyond five seconds, worry bubbled in Sam's gut.

He smacked his fist on Gabriel's chest, and Gabriel released him, looking very put out.

"Not that I wouldn't appreciate another round, but Dean's here."

The expression on Gabriel's face read as: _Are you fucking kidding me_?

That was puzzling. Sam had thought Gabriel and him had been on the same page when it came to Dean. Sam sighed in exasperation. "I really do not need Dean walking in on us and freaking out."

"Who cares if that chucklehead freaks out? He's going to have to learn to deal with it at some point."

"I care." Sam gave Gabriel a small shove, but the archangel was like a boulder and did not budge. "And what do you mean he has to learn to deal? Maybe if we were dating—"

Gabriel leveled a glare at Sam.

Realization sucker punched Sam in the face. "You think we're dating?" Talk about being off. Sam had complete misunderstood their relationship.

"You don't?"

"We haven't been on a date."

If Gabriel's glare had been scathing before, it reached volcanic levels at Sam's statement. "What do you call today?"

Sam had to pause for a moment to make sure he understood what Gabriel was saying, because never in his wildest fantasies would he had considered there time together a date. "We were working on a case."

"Alone," Gabriel deadpanned. "I had an éclair, we flirted, and then we went back to your place and had sex that would make a porn star jealous."

Gabriel's definition of a date was rather flimsy compared to Sam's, but he could see where the archangel was coming from. "Okay, I'll go with that, but even so, we never talked about whether we were friends with benefits, dating openly, or dating monogamously. Personally, I thought you were spending most of your days models."

"Have you been cheating on me?" Accusation laced Gabriel's voice.

Sam's jaw dropped. He shook his head in disbelief. "Are you joking, because this is not funny Gabriel? You sound like a jealous boyfriend." Sam winced. If Gabriel thought of himself as Sam's boyfriend, then that comparison made perfect sense and Sam had just dug himself into a twelve-foot deep hole.

Gabriel blinked then frowned. Then just like that, Gabriel was smiling at Sam, and wacked Sam playfully on the arm. "Jeez, Sasquatch, don't freak out. Although, you do bring up a pretty good point."

He wrapped his arm around Sam's neck, his eyes becoming half-mast as he prepared to kiss Sam, and Sam relaxed at the familiar gesture and attitude. He was still confused, which was why he welcomed the familiar gesture openly.

"Which is?" Sam spoke softly, knowing that in their proximity, Gabriel would be able to feel his warm breath brush across his lips.

"You need to know that you are officially in a monogamous relationship with me."

"Wait. Wha—?" Sam was cut off by Gabriel's lips pressing against his. Weren't they supposed to discuss this more, Sam wondered.

The bathroom door open, the shower still running as Dean whistled a happy tune. "Hey Sam, where did we put the…" Dean trailed off.

Sam didn't need look over his shoulder to know Dean was staring at Sam and Gabriel with their lips locked together slack-jawed. The pounding of Dean's footsteps across the carpeted floor was the only warning Sam had before Dean's hand clamped on his shoulder and yanked Gabriel and Sam apart.

"What the hell?" Dean aimed at Gabriel. His glare snapped toward Sam. "Did you give him permission, Sam?"

"Has been for the last few months," Gabriel said casually as he licked his lips, feigning nonchalance.

Dean dropped his hand from Sam's shoulder and gaped at him like Sam had just said Lucifer wasn't so bad. "And you didn't think it was important for me to know that you're screwing an angel?" He pointed at Gabriel. "Screwing this asshole, right here?"

Gabriel whistled lowly, and beamed. "Nice choices of words there, Dean-o."

Crimson blanketed Dean's face. It took only a moment for Dean to recover from his realization, and from there he assaulted Sam with a barrage of questions and recollections of all of Sam's past mistakes.

Sam glowered at Gabriel the entire evening, even when Gabriel insisted on climbing into bed with him "just to cuddle."

* * *

Sam held up his fake warrant for Lotta to see before he lowered it onto the display case and pushed it toward Lotta. Between Dean pestering him with inquiries and accusing stares, and Gabriel's clinginess, Sam managed to produce a pretty good replica of a search warrant. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to show it to a judge, but for the purposes of getting Lotta's information the fake would do.

Lotta frowned as she tapped her manicured nail on the paper. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and shook her head. "Whole world's gone crazy." She opened a drawer in her desk. There was a clattering of keys, and Lotta pulled out a ring of twenty keys, twirling it around her finger. "Back in a moment. Unless you two boys want to follow me to the filing cabinet." She eyed Sam and Gabriel, and Sam tried to ignore the fact that Gabriel was standing directly behind him, just inches away.

He was still reeling from his revelation the other day. Apparently he was Gabriel's boyfriend and vice versa.

It was still strange for him to think of them that.

Sam took a few steps forward, and Lotta took it as for Sam's answer. She led him into the back of the shop.

It really was a kitchen. Sunlight from the window of the backdoor bounced off the steel countertops. The place was immaculate with everything put away except for a stone and pestle on the table in the middle of the kitchen.

In the corner of the room—far away from the kitchen section—was a desk with a filing cabinet. Lotta unlocked the top drawer and pulled out a purple folder, tossing it onto the desk. "Those are my sales over the last month. You don't need any more since the murders started only a week or two ago, right?"

Sam shook his head, ignoring the pinch to his butt Gabriel gave him. "We'll need to look further back just in case."

Lotta cursed, clutching her keys in her hand. She took a deep breath then let it out. "Fine. I'm taking an early lunch. You two can stay back here and look through these files. Do it quick. Your energies are off today, and I really do not need to be in the presence of your negativity longer than required." She marched out of the back room without a word.

Sam listened for the door chime and the sound of the lock sliding into place to know when she was gone.

Sam let out a breath of tension only to suck it in again, as Gabriel swung himself in front of Sam, then clamped his hands on Sam's buttocks, trapping Sam in Gabriel's embrace. "Wanna do it on the desk?"

"Some other time." Sam crouched, slipping out of Gabriel's hold. He retreated two steps back as he straightened himself out then plopped himself into the swivel chair at the desk.

Gabriel pouted, perching himself on the edge of the desk. "C'mon Sam. She probably won't be back for an hour. Might as well have some fun."

"We had fun yesterday, and we can have fun later today." Sam frowned as he flipped open the folder. "What has gotten into you? I know you love sex, but normally you can keep it in your pants longer than this."

"Something wrong with me finding your banging bod irresistible?"

Sam shook his head, flattered by the compliment but not letting it show.

Gabriel smirked, adjusting his position so he was on his hands and knees atop the desk. He crawled toward Sam. His fingers curled around Sam's tie and he tugged Sam forward. "What can I say, I just want you more and more."

Sam picked up a sheet of paper from the stack in the folder and held it between their faces. "Later."

Gabriel scowled.

* * *

Dean was going to have a pie for dinner, the older Winchester determined as the sister of the first murderer—Angela or something similar was her name—led him through her house. The girl wasn't even out of high school, and she fidgeted as she guided Dean to the living room. He took small amusement in the juxtaposition between the floral couch and the sports-themed blanket thrown across its back.

Angela waved him to the couch as she took a seat in a loveseat that had seen better days, and promised its users backaches.

"I really don't know how much more I can help you." Angela gnawed her bottom lip and clasped her hands in her lap. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to my parents?"

"I'd be happy to, but until then, it would really help with my investigation if you could share anything you know about your sister. Was she acting strangely before…" Dean trailed off as the blood drained from Angela's face. He cleared his throat. "…you know."

Angela shook her head then bowed it. "Lana was the same. She and Greg…they had just started dating. It doesn't make any sense that she would…kill him."

"Do you know anyone who would have?"

"What?" Angela straightened.

"If you're sister isn't responsible, who do you think is?"

Angela opened her mouth then shut it. She shook her head.

Dean zeroed in on the actions and knew in a heartbeat that Angela had a theory. "Anything you tell me is strictly confidential. If you're worried about someone targeting you then…"

Angela threw her hands up and flailed them. "Oh no, I'm not worried about that. I mean… I wasn't." She winced. "It's just…it's not nice to start rumors, you know? Especially really malicious ones."

Dean leaned forward in his seat. "Listen, this isn't some powwow in the girls' locker room." If only it was, and the room was filled with age-appropriate women instead of minors. It'd be awesome. "Whatever you tell me isn't going to spread and cause the person to be singled out. I'm just trying to look at this from every possible angle."

Angela nodded, but didn't rush to speak her mind. She fiddled with the fabric of her jeans before she nodded again, accepting Dean's request. "There was a guy named David—I never got his last name because he was in a different grade than me, but I know he works at Danny's Sweet Shop and Lotta's potion shop. Lana and him always seemed to be dancing around each other—a lot of people thought they were going to start dating soon, but then Greg asked Lana out. Lana said yes, and the only times I've seen David since then he's been at work.

Honestly, when I first heard Greg was dead, I thought David had done it."

"Does this David guy have a history of being violent?"

Angela shook her head. "It's just a classic motive, you know? It comes up all time in books and stuff."

It wasn't much to go on—not even when combined with the information he had gleaned from Sam in between chewing his brother out for being a secretive asshole about Gabriel. There were some connections there though. David had spurned feelings for the first murderer, he worked with a witch—albeit a kitchen witch, he believed in magic, and…

Dean went ramrod straight. "Danny's Sweet Shop sells chocolate, right?"

"Yeah…" Angela answered like she thought it was a trick question.

Dean cursed under his breath. It was such a flimsy theory, but he'd gone after other leads for less. He shot up out of the chair. "Thank you for your time, Angela, but I really must be going. If think of anything else, any strange behavior, just give me a call." He handed her his card then made a beeline for the door, his hand dipping into his pocket for his cell phone.

* * *

Sam bit down a groan as Gabriel nibbled and sucked on the tender flesh of his neck. Gabriel hummed in delight as he moved lower down Sam's throat.

Sam sighed and threaded his fingers through his hair, putting down the paper he'd just been reading. He leaned into the touch, enjoying Gabriel's ministrations with his mouth and Gabriel's fingers kneading deeply into the back of his neck. He'd been doing his best to keep Gabriel focused on the task at hand, but Gabriel was determined.

Sam wanted nothing more than to relax and forget about the case for the moment, but he knew every second he wasted was another chance for the person responsible for the strange string of murders to strike again.

Sam carded his hand through Gabriel's hair and forced Gabriel's face away from his neck. Gabriel eyes were lit in delight, and he huffed like he had been drowning as he smirked at Sam.

A small voice in the back of Sam's head mumbled something about angels not needing oxygen. He was too determined to get it through to Gabriel that they needed to work and play would come later.

Sam pushed the swivel chair back. He inhaled sharply when Gabriel, in move as fast as lightning, snatched Sam's chair back, pulling Sam closer him. He gripped Sam by the shoulders, his nails pressing so hard, any more strength put into the hold would leaves crescents in Sam's skin. He pressed his forehead against Sam's, inhaling deeply.

"Gabriel?" Sam had been prepared to yell at Gabriel the moment the angel stopped his retreat, but Gabriel's shuddery breath set off warning sirens in Sam's head. He reached up and cupped his hand over Gabriel's back.

Gabriel shook his head, his eyes screwed shut. "Not enough."

Sam's phone rang.

Sam internally cursed. Whatever was happening to Gabriel, it deserved Sam's undivided attention, but if Dean was calling with a lead then Sam would be remise to not answer. Wiggling in the chair so he maintained his proximity with Gabriel, Sam fished out his phone.

Dean's number flashed on the screen. "I gotta take this."

Gabriel's eyes flew open. His warm golden eyes had turned scathing.

Sam pressed the phone to his ear. "Find anything?"

"We gotta check out that David guy some more. Turns he had a thing for the first murderer. Also, how much of a coincidence do you think it is that he works for a witch, and doles out chocolate on the side?"

"Chocolate?"

"Sam…" Gabriel's voice was a warning.

"Come on, man. Remember what you said last night. The double-homicides? The chocolate? The severed hand in a chocolate box?"

The puzzle pieces clicked together in Sam's head. He removed his hand from Gabriel's back and flipped shut the folder containing all of Lotta's paperwork. "Okay, we'll meet you—"

Gabriel ripped the phone out of Sam's hand and crushed it in his fist.

"Gabriel!" Sam squawked in disbelief.

Gabriel glared at him, and wrapped his hand behind Sam's head. He leaned in so his lips hovered inches from Sam's. There was something murderous and crazed about Gabriel's eyes, and Sam fought off a shudder.

"Gabriel?" Sam whispered. He felt like a Leviathan and not his boyfriend were staring him down.


	2. Part 2

**Author's Corner:** Just wanted to give Shali a shout out for the guest review. I'm glad you you didn't let the "Horror" tag scare you off. :)

* * *

**Part 2**

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean shouted into his phone as he drove down the road. A disconnected tone blared from the phone. He cursed, ending the call and tossing the phone onto the passenger seat of the Impala. He gritted his teeth and slammed on the gas.

* * *

"Gabriel," Sam tried to get through to the archangel again. His muscles were tense, preparing to fight or flee. With Gabriel holding his head, the chances of escape were slim, but the probability of surviving a fight was even slimmer—the only weapons he had on him were his gun and a pocket knife, neither of which would do much harm to an angel.

Gabriel smashed their mouths together. Sam winced as their teeth clanked together and Gabriel's tongue probed a little too deeply and roughly for his enjoyment.

Sam fisted one hand around Gabriel's shoulders, clutching the fabric of Gabriel's jacket, as he tried to keep himself grounded and not panic. He scanned the desk for something sharp, but found nothing other than the corner edges of the desk. Internally, Sam winced at what he knew he had to do if he even wanted chance of surviving if things took a sudden turn for the worst.

He breathed through his nose as his chest burned with the need for more oxygen. Gabriel was usually much better at recognizing this basic human need, but whatever was messing with his head, either made him uncaring or unaware of Sam's needs.

Sam placed his palm against the corner edge of the desk, digging it into his skin. He hid the movement by shoving against Gabriel's shoulder.

Gabriel resisted, and even slid his hands under Sam's shirt to rove over the flesh underneath.

Sam was getting light headed. It helped dull the pain in his palm. The corner cut into his skin, but it wasn't drawing enough blood. He shoved his palm harder into the corner. He groaned in pain, but Gabriel misunderstood and took it as encouragement.

Sam angled his mouth so that a corner of it was free from Gabriel's. "Breathe," he mumbled, before lips pressed against his feverishly.

Gabriel hummed in a lazy, yet inquiring manner.

Sam bit on Gabriel's lip, earning him enough room to murmur, "Air."

Gabriel tensed, and suddenly his mouth was gone from Sam's and peppering kisses up and down Sam's neck. "Sorry. Sorry. Just need to be—" He bit down bruising hard on the junction between Sam's collarbone and neck. Sam groaned against the pain. Normally he wouldn't mind a little roughness, but there was nothing about the situation that Sam found sexy. "Just need to be closer to you," Gabriel breathed across his neck in a warm breath.

Sam released the fistful of jacket that he'd clamped onto, and let his hand drift to Gabriel's back where he rubbed soothing circles both to comfort and distract Gabriel as drew an angel banishing sigil on the desk.

Gabriel's hands roamed over Sam's chest and abs, only to stop. "Just want to be closer," Gabriel huffed. His hands pressed down against Sam's stomach.

Sam tensed. An image of Gabriel ripping into him and pulling out his intestines popped into his head, and he hastened his efforts to draw the banishing sigil.

Pain flooded Sam as Gabriel's hands sunk into his flesh, but not at all in the way he had envisioned. Gabriel was reaching through him to his soul. It burned, and every thought except for a desperate need to make the pain stop and sense of violation bled away. He was mildly aware that he was screaming, and clinging to Gabriel, who was whispering things in his ear in a calming voice that did nothing of the sort.

He could feel it—Gabriel's fingers wrapped around and cradling his essence, and it felt wrong.

Then there was a flash of light, the pain was gone, and Sam dropped into the chair he had been sitting in. His limbs hung limply at his side and vertigo wrecked havoc on his vision. He was distantly aware of Dean sliding in front of him, looking him over injuries, and shouting his name. Then Dean was lifting him out of the chair, slinging one of Sam's arms over his shoulder, and hauling Sam out of the shop.

It wasn't until he was in the passenger seat of the Impala that his senses began to return to normal. He could smell the scents of beer, gunpowder, and fast food that always permeated the Impala. He could hear the sounds of nearby traffic and Dean muttering curses under his breath as he slid into the driver seat. A stab of pain led Sam's attention to his palm, where a small stream of blood flowed out of his flesh. "You got rid of him?" Sam huffed.

Dean's head snapped to Sam, clearly not having expected Sam to be in a talkative mood yet. He nodded his head, slowly as if hesitant to answer, although Sam couldn't fathom why.

Sam slumped into his seat, momentarily relieved.

"Talk about bad touch, right?" Dean tried to joke.

"Too soon."

Silence fell between them, and Dean started the engine.

"Left blood on the desk," Sam mumbled.

Dean paused, his hand poised to flick his turn indicator and signal his intent to pull out from the sidewalk. He killed the engine a moment later, and grumbled to himself. He reached over into back seat on the car and fished around until he pulled out a small canister of holy oil. He shoved it at Sam's chest as he got out the car. "Stay put."

Dean marched into Lotta's shop and didn't return for ten minutes. He didn't waste words as he hoped in the car and drove away from Lotta's shop. A minute later he finally spoke up, "Do you need food or something?"

Sam licked his lips. His strength was starting to return to him, but he could use a little extra fuel. "Water."

Dean nodded and pulled into a gas station. He was out the car and returning with a bottle of water and a health bar within a minute. The sight of the heath bar pulled on Sam's heartstrings; Dean was a lot more concerned than he was letting on if he was catering to Sam's health conscious eating habits without being asked. "Thanks." Sam ripped open the bar's packing and took a bite. He washed it down with a mouthful of water.

After Sam took another bite, Dean plowed onward with his inquiries. "So was there a reason Gabriel was fucking around with your soul, or has he lost it?"

Sam frowned, reliving the moment in his head again. "Something is messing with him, but either its not strong enough to completely control him, or Gabriel is fighting it."

"You certain?"

Sam shook his head. "When I told him I needed air. He immediately let me and kept apologizing for what he'd done. Also…" Sam hesitated, unsure if he was reading too deeply into things. "Yesterday when I called him out on acting like jealous boyfriend, his whole attitude changed. It was like he was himself for a moment, like he remembered who was."

"So…what? The power of love is keeping him in check or something?" Incredulity rolled off Dean's tongue, and Sam didn't blame him. "Doesn't that sound like the opposite of what's been going on here? Does Gabriel's freak out have anything to do with the case or do we another thing to worry about?"

Sam decided it was best not to point out that whether or not Gabriel's mental lapse was caused by the same thing behind all of the recent murders in town, there was another thing to worry about: Gabriel. If Gabriel had developed a case of a stalker/abusive boyfriend mind set, things were about to get more hairy for Sam and Dean. "All I know is, he had five éclairs from Danny's Sweet Shop yesterday—chocolate éclairs."

"Shit," Dean hissed, gripping the steering wheel tight.

"Made by David."

"Well, you just keep piling on all the good news, don't you?" Dean snapped. He ran his hand through his hair as he bit the inside of his cheek. He let out a deep breath. "Okay. We check out where David works, see if we can find anything that suggests witchcraft, and when we do, we shoot the bastard and leave. That should end whatever has got Gabriel, going nuts-o."

Sam nodded and gave Dean directions to get to Danny's Sweet Shop—he decided it would be better to argue with Dean later about keeping David alive until they knew for a fact that the spell would break once David passed. The drive was short and Dean parked in front the shop. Sam reached to undo his seatbelt when he heard Dean clear his throat. He looked up as he undid the clasp. Dean pointed to neck. "You might want to cover that up." Dean ducked out of the car without any other word.

Sam's hand flew up to his neck where Gabriel had bitten him. He huffed in annoyance as he adjusted his collar so it hid the bruise. He stepped out of the car and gestured at his neck. "Better?"

Dean shook his head. "Jesus, I knew he had a big mouth, but…" Dean scrunched up his face in disgust. "You know what, it's fine. FBI can get hickeys too."

Self-consciousness wracked Sam's nerves as he strolled into the shop with Dean. Was the bruise really so big that it could still be seen after he'd fixed his collar?

A man wiped down the counter as Sam and Dean entered. A small rectangular pin with "Danny" embossed across it gave away the man's identity. The man himself was quite a sight to see. He was bulky and tanned to the point where just a few more hours in the sun would make his skin leather; Sam would have expected him to be a gardener if he didn't know better.

"How may I help you two?" Danny asked with a smile that put David's gracious host one to shame.

Practically in sync, Sam and Dean flashed their FBI badges at Danny.

Danny just blinked in mild surprise.

"I am sure you are aware of the recent murders in town," Dean said as he pocketed his badge at the same time as Sam. "We would like to investigate your shop."

Danny cocked his head to the side. "You think my shop is somehow tied to the recent murders?" Amusement danced in his eyes. He laughed, tossing the towel he'd been wiping the counter down with over his shoulder. He turned and waved them to back. "All right. You're crazy, but whatever gets you to sleep at night." He held open the door to the kitchen for them. "Have at it. I'll be out here taking care of my customers."

"Uh… all right. Thanks." Dean fidgeted as he strolled into the kitchen. Sam didn't blame him. Rarely did they get a reaction like Danny's when they asked to investigate a place. Even so, Sam wasn't going complain—it made their job much easier.

The kitchen was huge with utensils, pots, pans, and trays littering every surface. Dean pointed at Sam then at the right wall. Sam knew that he'd just been assigned to search the right half of the room while Dean took the left. Sam marched over to the farthest corner of the wall and opened up the cupboards overhead, sifting through their contents. Behind him he heard a bang and clatter, and he turned to see that Dean had knocked over a pot. Sam chuckled and went back to work. Sam rifled through every drawer and cupboard, and even got on his hands and knees to see if something was tucked underneath the rolling shelves and trays.

He was three quarters of the way through his section and was sweating from the constant heat generated by the ovens. He wiped his brow as he crouched in front of the sink and opened the cupboard below. A box of garbage bags, a few cleaning products, and the sink's pipe greeted him.

Sam sighed, about to shut the cupboard when he shifted, changing his angle. The sink's pipe was bent so that it was an "S" shape, and crammed between the top of that "S" and the cupboard was a hefty leather bound book. "Dean!" Sam hollered.

He half crawled into the cupboard and pushed against the books spine until it popped out of its spot and fell into Sam's waiting hand. Dean's footsteps padded hurriedly across the floor, and Sam crawled out from the cupboard and held the book up victoriously over his head. "Either I just found someone's journal, or I think we got a grimoire."

Dean snatched up the book and snapped it open. He flipped through a few pages and whistled lowly. "Talk about overkill. I've barely opened this thing and I've already found five hexes, one of which looks like it is for Chlamydia." Dean shuddered. "Friggin' witches. Givin' people sexual diseases without givin' them the good stuff first."

Sam frowned and stole the book from Dean as he stood up. "Instead of complaining about STDs, don't you think we should be confronting David, or looking for the spell he used?"

Dean smirked. "Sorry, I thought you'd be interested in STDs, since your boyfriend gave you one."

Sam flushed as he remembered the TV Land incident. "It wasn't real, and he wasn't my boyfriend then. Now focus."

Dean raised an eyebrow in mock shock. "Not your boyfriend then, Sammy? You slut."

"Shut up!" Sam shoved Dean in the arm. "Go look around the shop some more and see if you can find any ingredients he might have used in the spell. We should probably look in to Dav—"

The door to the front of the shop swung open, and Danny waltzed inside. He whistled a happy tune to himself, but stopped when he realized that Sam and Dean were frozen to the spot. Danny looked between them and shrugged. He meandered over to the ovens, opened each one and mumbled comments about the goodies inside.

"I see you found Lotta's book," Danny said as he checked the third oven.

Sam tensed and stared at the book in his arms. "Lotta?"

Dean stepped forward. "You mean David's, right?"

Danny waved his hand in flippant manner. "That book has been in Lotta's family for years. David took it a few weeks ago, and she's just waiting to see when he will man up and return it to her."

Sam frowned. "How do you know that?"

Danny turned and smacked his hands together as if trying to clean them of dirt. He beamed. "You think I don't know my own kitchen? I found that book weeks ago, and told Lotta."

"And you knew it was hers?" Sam pressed.

"Of course. We dated when we were teenagers and she showed it to me then. The book is very bad mojo, but since most people don't know how to use magic or something like that—you'd have ask Lotta for the details, cause really, I just don't know what she's talking about—she lets David keep it. Something about the illusion of power helping him heal or something like that, and the whole learning to own up to his wrongs thing I mentioned."

_The illusion of power_? The murders that had been happening around town were no illusion. Lotta had to truly believe that David did not have any magic or control over magic if she wasn't the least bit curious about the strange murders. Sam glanced at Dean, and he could tell his brother was thinking along the same lines.

Dean cleared his throat. "I think my partner and I have searched enough. We will be confiscating this book for now. Thank you for your cooperation."

Danny frowned, eyes glancing down at the book. He opened his mouth then shut it.

Sam gave a silent nod farewell, and followed Dean out of the shop and into the Impala.

* * *

Sam glanced at the illuminated numbers on the hotel clock as he flipped through the grimoire. His shoulder blades pressed together at the realization that it had been just over two hours since Gabriel had been banished. It took a nice chunk of time for angels to find Sam and Dean again once the sigil had been used, but Gabriel was an archangel. His recovery time could be even less.

Sam subtly angled his head to reexamine the symbols Dean and him had drawn on the door and windows to keep Gabriel out. If the markings were doing their job correctly, then for all Sam knew, Gabriel had already returned and was just waiting outside to grab him when Sam finally left the room.

Dean sat on the foot of the bed with Sam's laptop in his lap as he typed across the keys.

"You find David's address yet?" Sam asked.

"Huff?" Dean blinked and looked up from the screen. "Uh, yeah. Yeah." Dean's eyes shot back to the laptop.

Sam scowled. "Are you watching porn?"

Dean scoffed in a manner that gave away that he was doing exactly what Sam suspected he was doing. "Jeez, Sam, you don't ask a guy those kind of things."

Sam skimmed over the spell on the page in front of him, then turned it as he glowered. "Your supposed to be looking up David's information, and I better not get a virus."

Dean waved him. "I already got the kid's address. I'm ready to go once your done combing through that piece of junk."

Sam frowned, but kept his thoughts to himself. He just wanted to make sure whatever spell or potion was being used to make Gabriel crazy would be undone once David was dead. If not, then at the very least, Sam wanted to know and be ready with whatever would reverse Gabriel's condition. He read through ten more pages of spells when something finally caught his eye.

Sam cleared his throat to get Dean's attention. "I found a potion designed to heighten…" Sam scrunched his nose at the word choice on the page. "…'romantic desires'."

Dean frowned at the wording. "That'd a little vague."

A scoff of a laugh escaped Sam as he ran his finger over the words of the page. "No kidding. According to someone's notes scrawled on the bottom of the page, it's a spell that can either be used for good or evil. A few drops, and suddenly someone who wants to be more active in the bedroom gets a kick in the libido, but if given too much…"

"Dude keeps plowing his girlfriend until they either die of exhaustion or dehydration," Dean supplied.

Sam nodded, reading through more of the notes, not liking one bit what they were describing. "That's assuming the girlfriend doesn't fight back or escape after she's had enough. There's also a warning about emotions turning volatile, especially if the person is rejected."

"Jesus," Dean hissed. "Did the person who write that just sit there and watch as couples killed each other?" There was a pause then something flashed in Dean's eyes and he straightened. "Do you think it's David's notes?"

Sam studied the handwriting. It was an androgynous script that was mostly blocky, but had a few letters that contained flourishes. "No idea. I've never seen him write anything." Sam shut the book and pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. "It also says nothing about a reversal potion or spell."

"So maybe it wears off after a few days?" Dean supplied, although Sam knew his brother was already mentally preparing a plan to kill Gabriel if need be.

Sam nodded despite the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Dean stood up and clamped his hand on Sam's shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, we can still tie down David and make him talk. He might know some way to reverse it."

Sam didn't protest, rising to his feet from the desk he had been studying at.

Suddenly Dean's face transformed into a grimace. "So wait… Gabriel _wanted_ to touch your soul?" His grimace grew. "That's so frickin' cheesy, and complete romantic bullshit. Like the stuff they sell to those batshit teenage girls."

Sam's had went to his stomach at the memory of the invasion. His ears burned at the as his mind replayed Gabriel's words right before he grabbed Sam's soul. "I don't think it was that he wanted to touch my soul."

"Okay…" Dean leveled him with a suspicious glare. "What did he want then?"

"_Just need to be closer to you."_ Sam scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "It's kind of private." If Gabriel had been in his right mind he never would have uttered those words unless it was in the context of sex. Considering that he'd spoken those words right before touching Sam's soul, Sam concluded that the plea for intimacy was not of the physical kind but emotional.

Dean held his ground.

Sam sighed in exasperation. "You wouldn't want me going around telling him your personal stuff, so don't ask me to share his stuff with you."

Dean blinked, a tad taken aback by Sam's argument, but after a moment he nodded—none too happily—then marched out the door with the Impala's keys in hand.

Sam shut the book and tucked it into the desk's narrow drawer before trudging after Dean. Dread weighed down his thoughts and twisted his insides. Not even the head-pounding volume of Dean's music blaring out of the car's speakers could drown out his worrisome thoughts as they drove to David's home—a small innocuous duplex that could use some reroofing.

"Second floor," Dean said through a grunt as he put the emergency parking brake in place. He was out of the car and popping the trunk in seconds.

"Great," sarcasm dripped off Sam's voice as he stepped out of the Impala. He eyed the second level of the duplex—noting that it could probably use some repainting on the outside too. "Let's hope his downstairs neighbors aren't home to hear us if we have to tackle him."

Dean grinned as he pulled out a knife and hid it within the confines of his jacket. "They'll think he's just havin' some rough sex."

Sam scoffed. "Because that's the first thing everyone thinks off when they hear loud bangs upstairs."

"Yeah," Dean said as if it were obvious. "It's the odd ones who don't."

He passed a knife to Sam, and just as Sam finished tucking the blade away, Dean handed him a spare gun. Sam checked to make sure it was loaded. From the corner of his eye he watched Dean pull out a pair of handcuffs. Dean grabbed a few more items to help keep David in place once they captured him—assuming they wouldn't be forced to kill him right away.

Dean took the lead, his gun held at the ready, as they crept up the worn staircase leading to the second story of the duplex. Standing in front of the door, Dean raised his foot to kick it in when Sam put his hand on Dean's. Dean looked at Sam curiously.

"Maybe we should knock first? I doubt he suspects anything. It might be easier to catch him off guard that way."

"What, you want to sit down for tea and cookies with him, and when he turns his back hit him over the head?"

"I could do without the tea and cookies, but yeah. Why not?"

Dean frowned, trying to conjure an argument against Sam's reasoning. Finally, he cursed and stashed his gun away. Sam copied his action. He knocked on the door. There was a shout of surprise followed by a muffled, "Coming!"

The door flew open moments later with David standing there in gray sweats peppered with what looked to be Cheetos crumbs.

Dean hummed in amusement. "Enjoying your day off, I see."

David eyed Dean with suspicion. His gaze drifted to Sam and recognition flashed across his face. His head swiveled to Dean and he frowned. "Where's the other guy?"

"Creepin' on his boyfriend," Dean answered.

Sam ignored the urge to elbow Dean in reprimand. "We were hoping you could answer some more questions about Lotta Heartwell and her business."

David nodded, but his frowned was still on his face. "Okay, I guess. What do you want to know?"

"We'd like to keep this conversation as private as possible, and it could take a while." Sam let the sentence hang in the air, waiting for David to infer Sam's request.

The frown lines across David's face deepened, but he nodded and stepped aside to let Sam and Dean in.

Dean went in first, watching David from the corner of his eye for any sudden movements. Sam mimicked him, examining the small and sparse living room. There was kitchen just a bit smaller than Dean and Sam's in the hotel they were staying at attached to the living room. David waved them toward a two-person couch with torn and frayed edges along the arms. Sam took the offered seat, while Dean stood nearby the piece of furniture.

"Would you two like something to drink?" David strolled to the kitchen and opened the olive colored fridge. He bent forward and practically stuck his head into the fridge as he scrounged around inside it. His back was turned also, making him an easy target to sneak up on.

One of Dean's eyebrows shot up as he stared at Sam incredulously then wandered over to the kitchen casually. "What do you got?"

David peeked his head out of the fridge long enough to see that Dean was standing behind him. He then stuck his head inside the fridge again like an ostrich. "I got a few can of beers, if you want. Can you guys drink on the—"

Dean slammed the grip of his gun on David's head.

David collapsed with a grunt, his head banging on the shelves inside the fridge as he slumped down.

Dean blinked in disbelief as he stared at David's unconscious form. "That was too easy."

Sam frowned as he stood up to join Dean. Maybe it was because growing up a hunter he was a little more jaded than most, but even he found this situation too easy. "Well, he's still young. Just barely out of high school, maybe—"

A hand clamped over Sam's mouth from behind while an arm with inhuman strength wrapped around his waist and pulled him toward a smaller body.

"Sam!" Dean shouted and lunged toward Sam.

The scene blurred and changed before Dean could reach him. A purple and orange sunset greeted his eyes as Sam fought against the hold of his offender. He was on roof of brick building that at glance appeared to be four stories high.

"Sam," his name was spoken in a warning tone, and Sam knew that voice.

It was Gabriel.

The arm wrapped around his waist loosened and the hand clasped over Sam's mouth dropped. Sam shoved all of his weight against the arm to free himself, but the limb wouldn't budge. Sam internally cursed, he was once again in position where he couldn't defend himself. Unlike the last time Gabriel had him pinned, he hand a knife he could use to cut his hand and draw the banishing sigil, but there was no way he could pull it out without garnering Gabriel's attention. The aggravation at his predicament caused his head to throb. He twisted in Gabriel's grasp so he was facing the archangel head on.

Sam stiffened as golden eyes filled with longing and sorrow burrowed into his just before Gabriel buried his face in Sam's chest and squeezed him.

"I missed you, Samsquatch. Why didn't you look for me after Dean sent me away?" The hands sprawled along the cradle of Sam's back pressed harder against Sam, the fingers curling around Sam's jacket. "Dean-o's going to wish he was stuck in a time loop again when I'm through with him."

"I would really appreciate it if you didn't torture my brother," Sam said.

Gabriel yanked his face away from Sam's chest and glared up at him. "He separated us. Are you happy about that Sam? Do you want to get away from me?"

_Crap._ The grimoire had said rejection could trigger volatile reactions from the potion's consumer. Sam needed to monitor his words or he'd end up like all of the murder victims.

Sam wrapped his arms around Gabriel's neck and pulled him in for a hug. "Damn it, Gabriel. I'm standing here right now, aren't I? Even after you touched my soul, which, in case you didn't notice, hurt like hell."

Gabriel's expression softened. He blinked and shook his head, a rueful smile playing on his lips. "Frickin' screamed like a banshee. Probably would have made my ears bleed if I were human." Gabriel shuddered, his head falling forward so his forehead rested on Sam's shoulder. "Fuck! Just—" Gabriel hands twitched over Sam's spine. "Just gotta get closer. You'll adapt to the pain." Gabriel shook his head. "No. You won't. You'll—"

Sam couldn't see the struggle on Gabriel's face, but he could hear it in the archangel's voice. A rubbed a hand soothingly over Gabriel's shoulders.

Gabriel's hands slid away from Sam's back, down to his hips where his gripped tightened. "Sorry, but I gotta…" One hand drifted toward Sam's stomach—the same place Gabriel hand touched just before he grabbed Sam's soul last time.

* * *

A litany of curses flew off of Dean's lips as he finished drawing a ring of salt around David, who he had tied and cuffed to a chair in the living room. He had drawn every protective symbol he knew into the floor and the walls to make certain that there was no way David would escape. He needed a reversal spell and he needed it ten minutes ago, before Gabriel had kidnapped Sam and taken him to Hell knows where.

He marched over to the boy slumped over in the chair and slapped David across the cheek. There was a loud satisfying smack, but the boy did not stir. Dean slapped him again and again until David finally groaned and lifted his head. Through the squinted eyes the young man glanced around the room. He chuckled wearily. "Well, someone has an interest in the occult."

Dean brandished his knife. "Tell me how to undo the effects of the potion you've been slippin' people and you might get out of this alive."

"I don't know what you're talking about," David huffed, turning his head away from Dean.

Dean scowled. "I'd be more inclined to believe you if your first reaction to being tied to a chair had been to panic and ask questions, not comment on the redecorating."

David glowered. "Considering I'm renting, the state of my floors and walls is important to me."

Dean snapped. He jabbed the knife into David's shoulder.

David howled in pain.

"I'm not fucking around kid. You only got a few minutes before I just say, 'fuck it' and kill you."

The only thing keeping David from lunging at Dean were the handcuffs and rope binding him to the chair. His eyes cast around the room, and he smirked. "Your partner is missing. Let me guess. Someone got hold of some of my chocolate? Now you partner has run off to find his girlfriend of something and kill her, right?"

Dean slashed David down the inside of his left arm, blood streamed out of the wound.

David hissed and scrunched his face. "Friggin' bitch."

Dean punched David across the face.

David's head snapped to the side and blood dribbled down his nose.

Dean crossed his arms. "I'm not going to wait much longer."

"I think you'll wait all day, if you want to save your partners."

Dean shoved the blade up against David's throat, breaking the skin. "Considering they could be killing each other right now, I'd rather bet on your death stopping whatever you've done to them than you spilling your guts before they do any permanent damage. So what's it going to be, kid?"

David glowered at Dean.

* * *

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, his stomach flexing away from Gabriel's touch. "Don't," Sam warned.

Gabriel cringed, but his hand pursued Sam's stomach, resting on the planes of Sam's abs.

Sam held down a shudder as the memory of the pain he'd felt prior returned to him. Sam reached for his knife and pulled it out, but before he could properly aim, Gabriel's hand flew up and clasped his wrist.

For a moment Gabriel was bug-eyed, but all shock was wiped away by fury. "What the hell, Sam?"

"Self defense."

Gabriel shoved Sam away from him, with such strength that Sam stumbled, tripped, and fell on his ass. He hissed as his bottom collided with the hard roof and clenched his jaw. He pushed himself up on his arms, but didn't get further because Gabriel was kneeled right beside him and had fisted the collar of Sam's shirt. Gabriel yanked Sam forward. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

Sam's fingers flexed on the handle of his knife—he still hand it, and if push came to shove he could use it. "Not to sound like a little girl, but you pushed me down! You're trying to touch my soul again even though you said I screamed like banshee." Sam lifted one of his hands and gripped the back of Gabriel's head, forcing Gabriel to look him in the eye. "C'mon Gabriel, I know you're in there. You can control this."

Gabriel closed his eyes as if in agony. He clenched his teeth together as he fought down his urges.

"If you can't that means some wannabe witch with barely any experience got the best of you," Sam said, attempting to appeal to his ego.

Gabriel's eyes flew open. A spark of fury flashed in his gaze. He gritted his teeth and curled his fingers so deep into the roof he created groove marks. "When I tell you to run, you run like Lucifer is drunk and wants to play darts with your body as a target board, got it?"

Sam nodded, although doubt hovered around him like a gray cloud. Even if Gabriel managed to control himself for a minute, it wouldn't be enough time for Sam to escape—not with Gabriel's speed and power.

Gabriel took deep breaths. His hand came up to hold Sam's wrist, but instead of a steely grip like Sam expected, it was a loose touch. Gabriel shuddered as he took one more deep breath then released Sam. He leaned away from Sam. "Run."

Sam pushed himself up and beelined it for the emergency escape ladder.

Sam had only gotten his feet on the first few rungs when Gabriel seized him by his arms and tugged him forward.

* * *

David cursed as Dean struck him again and demanded answers.

David wasn't talking and too much time had passed.

Dean pushed down any fear that killing David wouldn't solve anything, and rammed his blade into the boy's heart, twisting it as an extra measure.

David gasped and his body jerked before collapsing in heap. Dean ignored the spasms that wracked David's body as the last bit of life bled out of him.

* * *

Sam was frozen to the spot, not sure what to do as Gabriel stared at him, looking equally confused. Sam physically and mentally braced himself to be thrown through the air or even be mauled by some random tiger Gabriel chose to summon.

"Sam?" Gabriel whispered his name in an unbelieving manner.

Sam hesitated. "Gabriel?"

Gabriel released Sam and backtracked like he'd been burned. "Holy fuck! Did I—? Shit! Did I really just go stalker crazy on your ass?" He clutched his head and cursed some more. He glanced at the spot where he had kneeled over Sam—the indents of his fingers in the roof prominently visible. More profanity flew out of Gabriel. "It's all so fuzzy. Did I really touch your soul, and without your permission too?"

Sam paused, still processing the situation. "Are you, really you?"

"Of course I'm me, knucklehead, who else would I…" Gabriel cut himself off. He took a deep breath and a second later, a mischievous smirk danced upon his lips. "Are you going just stand on that ladder all night or are you going to move?"

The smirk and familiar flippant attitude triggered something inside Sam, and he found himself climbing off the ladder and onto the roof. He shuffled toward Gabriel, examining every inch of him as if there would be some physical indication that the curse was broken. "Are you okay?"

Gabriel scowled at Sam, giving the Winchester a whiplash at the sudden change of emotions. "I'm an archangel and trickster. What do you think I'm made of? Glass?" Without any warning he yanked down Sam's head, forcing Sam into the awkward and mildly uncomfortable position of resting his forehead against Gabriel's shoulder. "Idiot."

Sam sighed as Gabriel kneaded the back of his neck, and continued on a mild rant about Sam's stupidity. This was his Gabriel.

* * *

It had been one week since David's case, and Sam and Dean were in a town where they had just finished salting and burning the bones of a ghost haunting the local amusement park. They had returned to their motel room for the night—Dean running off to take a shower before he went out to the closest bar to pick up a girl for the night.

Sam stared at his illuminated computer screen as he debated an idea in his head. The last time he had seen Gabriel had been on the rooftop right after the spell had broken. He hadn't made contact with Gabriel since then because he assumed Gabriel wanted some time to himself, and also Gabriel was usually the one who decided when he would stop by. However, the case involving David left a few questions hanging in the air now, and Sam wanted answers.

The curse had revealed that Gabriel wanted to be closer—wanted to be in a monogamous relationship with Sam, but Gabriel was pushing him away. He knew that Gabriel's distance didn't mean that his feelings toward Sam had changed, but if Gabriel could only acknowledge those feelings under the influence of magic maybe they were best as only friends with benefits.

Sam took one more glance at the computer screen, which displayed the local movie theater and airing times.

Sam inhaled deeply as he braced himself for what he had planned. He craned his head back and looked at the ceiling. "I pray to the archangel Gabriel, I need you here. I have something I want ask you."

"Personally, I think I'm a little too young to get married, so if it's a marriage proposal, the answer is 'no.'" Gabriel voice came from Sam's bed.

Sam twisted in his chair so he could see the archangel.

Gabriel lay on his stomach across the bed, with his legs crossed at the ankles in the air. He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at Sam. "Although if it's another proposal that involves us taking off our clothes, then I'm all for it."

Sam bit down a chuckle as he shook his head at Gabriel. "I wanted to know if you want to see a movie."

Gabriel frowned. "A movie?"

Sam nodded. He felt silly asking such a question, but he knew Gabriel was smart and would connect the dots until he realized what Sam was getting at.

"Like a date?" Gabriel inquired in a guarded manner.

Sam nodded again.

"Like boyfriends?"

"Like boyfriends," Sam repeated.

Gabriel's brows knitted together as he ran over the phrase repeatedly in his mind. He grinned, although it looked forced. "You know, possessive, stalking boyfriends are not as attractive as _Twilight_ makes them out to be."

Sam shrugged. "I know I stalked you a few years ago, but considering I was trying to get you to bring my brother back to life after you killed him repeatedly, can you really blame me?"

There was a pause as Sam's question sunk in then Gabriel burst out laughing, his chuckles filling the room as he clutched his stomach. "You actually went there."

A small, contented smile played on Sam's lips. He was delighted to have broken the tension.

Gabriel laughter finally died down and he rolled off the bed. He stood behind Sam, his hand grasping the back of Sam's chair as he stared at the computer screen. He hummed in thought. "I don't know. This is our first official date, and as boyfriends no less. A movie just ain't going to cut it. We should go to Paris." He frowned. "No, that is too cliché."

Sam chuckled and swatted Gabriel in the stomach. "Just take me to movie, you show off."

Gabriel grinned from ear to ear. "Whatever you want, Sam."

He swooped down and kissed Sam on the lips.

* * *

**End.**


End file.
